


Talking to Myself

by Lovefushsia



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Hidden Feelings, John Knows, Kissing, M/M, POV John Watson, POV Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Wants John, Sherlock gets it out, Talking, with a little help from literature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovefushsia/pseuds/Lovefushsia
Summary: Sherlock tries to start a 'talk' about his feelings."Sherlock," John whispered with hitched, stilted breaths. "You do realise, Mr Darcy was rejected?""I fully expect the same," Sherlock whispered back, cupping John's face with his palm. "But I had to try."





	1. Chapter 1

“John, wait.” He pressed his finger tips to John’s chest, anchoring him there against the wall. Sherlock kept his head lowered for a moment, allowing his palm to rest against John’s heart, beats becoming quicker as they stood there. He didn’t want John to go, not tonight.

“What you did earlier-” _Let me see more, I need to see more._ “- it was impressive.” He allowed himself to look up, to catch John’s eyes, to see the confusion, the modesty on his face.

John pulled himself straighter, chest pressing back against Sherlock’s hand, and his lips edged up into a lop-sided smirk. “Well, you know, I’m learning from the best,” he said.

Sherlock nodded. It was true of course, but John’s qualities never ceased to make Sherlock proud.

“That move you did-” _The way your muscles worked under your shirt, I’ve never noticed that before._ “- is that from your army days?”

“Oh,” a light cough, “yes.”

“Bet you never thought you’d need to use it in London.” _Let me train with you, let me see it again._

“Not really, no. Um, Sherlock?”

Sherlock held his next breath as he watched John, eyes flicking down to his own hand, still flattened against his friend’s heart. _Tell me what you’re feeling, John._ “Yes?” he whispered.

“Is there something else? Because I, er, I should-”

 _Of course._ “Oh, yes, you have plans.” Sherlock let his hand drop, stepped back a little on feet that were suddenly too heavy.

“No, nothing fixed, if you need me to stay...” He trailed off and Sherlock shook himself, giving himself a mental shake up.

“No,” he said, more sharply than he intended. He pursed his lips and stood back against the opposite wall, watched as John’s expression turned down into a frown.

“Sherlock, you’re being odd, will you tell me what’s going on?”

 _How can I possibly._ “Nope, nothing.”

John sighed loudly, shrugged his shoulders. It made Sherlock shiver. “Right, well, I’ll be upstairs for a bit, getting changed. Ok?” John asked.

Sherlock nodded.

He stayed pressed to the wall until he heard John’s door click shut and then he slumped forward, letting out a long sigh and resting his hands on his knees. He knew he had been talking aloud when he heard John’s voice again from the foot of his stairs.

“See, now I know something’s up. You only talk to yourself when you need to get something off your chest.”

Sherlock looked up, guilt spread instantly across his face, eyes wide as he straightened up.

“Sherlock, what is it?” John asked, sounding only a little exasperated, Sherlock would have expected more frustration considering how annoying he was being.

He let out another non-committal sigh and swept his coat around him as he turned to go into the kitchen. “Really John, it’s nothing to concern yourself with, just something I need to work through,” he called, as he went to the kettle.

“And you don’t need my help with it?”

“Nope, I just need tea,” Sherlock said again, not looking at John.

“Because those words were Jane Austen’s weren’t they...? _‘Friendship is certainly the finest balm for the pangs of disappointed love’_.” 

“ _Northanger Abbey_ ,” Sherlock whispered.

“One of your favourites.”

“How do you know that?” Sherlock asked softly, tea forgotten as he stood, empty kettle in hand, watching John curiously across the kitchen table.

“You quote it all the time when you think I’m not listening. I recorded one of your longer passages and looked it up.”

“I clearly need to be more careful.”

“Why?”

“You might hear something I’ll regret.”

“What if you were to say something that you might not regret, if it was to the right person?” John asked carefully.

 _I can’t._ Sherlock shook his head.

“Why not?”

Despite John’s soft, questioning tone Sherlock’s response was snappy at best. “Because being compromised in that way would be severely detrimental to me, John, why would I put myself through that?”

John looked a little affronted but after a moment he spoke again. “Well, I don’t know Sherlock, maybe because, actually, you’re a better person once you’ve experienced a little emotional turmoil?”

“I’ve experienced enough, I don’t need... _emotions_ cluttering up this!” He pointed to his own head, furious with himself now and letting his anger hurt John. He cried out in frustration. “This! This is precisely why I need to avoid it at all costs. You see what happens when I try to discuss it?”

John was frowning, shaking his head, “No, no nothing’s happened Sherlock, this is fine, you’re right – it _is_ just a discussion.”

“I’m angry and you’re hurt. We can do better than this.”

Now a smile flickered over John’s lips, his eyes warmed. Sherlock’s breath hitched as John came closer, he had nowhere to back away to. He held the kettle out like a shield in front of him. John took another step and was right in front of him now, reaching out, gently pushing Sherlock’s hand aside, but leaving him with his prop. “Yes, we could, we could do this better.” He didn’t come closer, but Sherlock could feel his warmth again, see the beautiful mixed shades of his eyes. “Like I said, I’ll be upstairs. If you need to talk any more, or anything.”

Sherlock was left standing there, speechless as he watched John leave the kitchen and take the stairs again. His hand moved by itself to place the kettle back onto the counter.

He reached up for his scarf and slowly pulled it away from his too warm skin, pulling his coat from his shoulders as he began to move. Still staring blankly at the place John had been, he dropped his coat and scarf onto the kitchen table as he passed, unfastening his jacket buttons at the foot of the stairs. John had left his door open this time. Sherlock put a heavy foot on the bottom stair and blinked as he began to climb. Each step creaked and he idly considered that they should carpet these things soon, cosy the place up a bit.

John was sitting on his bed when Sherlock reached his door, shoes neatly placed underneath. Everything about him, about his room was neatly ordered. Sherlock could use some of that for himself. “John,” he said, too formal.

John smiled and nodded, too kind.

Sherlock took a step forward, John stood up.

“Close the door behind you,” John said softly.

Sherlock reached behind him, pulled the door as he shifted his feet, and leaned against it until it was closed. “So, where should we start?” he asked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Talk continues. With a little more help from Jane Austen.  
> *screams*

"How about you tell me how long you've been using Jane Austen as an excuse not to talk to me?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock said. "I talk to you all the time."

"You talk to yourself all the time. Sometimes I overhear."

"Sometimes you ignore me."

"Do you blame me?" John asked, but it was soft and he was smiling. "I have to tune you out sometimes."

"No," Sherlock admitted. "I could never blame you for anything."

John took a step towards him and Sherlock pressed himself against the door but John didn't come any closer. He started to unbutton his cardigan.

"So?" John asked gently. "What shall we talk about?"

"Yeah ok," Sherlock said, watching him.

"Ok... what?" John asked, smiling at his friend's confusion.

Sherlock looked at him, frowning. "Um."

"How can I get you to focus, Sherlock?"

"Focus?" Sherlock said, as they stood there about a metre apart. "I'm always focused on you." He seemed to come back from wherever he was floating. "I do have something to say..."

John nodded when Sherlock paused. "Ok, good."

After another moment, Sherlock looked down to his toes and quietly spoke again. "In vain have I struggled. It will not do." His whispered words touched John and he drew in a sharp breath, even as he tried to maintain some kind of composure. "My feelings will not be repressed."

John's hands dropped to his sides and he swallowed, as Sherlock looked up, met his eyes.

"You must allow me to tell you..." He was moving now, stepping into John's space and looking down at him with eyes wide and sincere. John's heart was racing. "...how ardently..." he reached out, stroking an unimaginably soft finger down the side of John's face. He didn't seem to be breathing. John wanted to kiss him. "...I admire and love you."

"Sherlock," John whispered with hitched, stilted breaths. "You do realise, Mr Darcy was rejected?"

"I fully expect the same," Sherlock whispered back, cupping John's face with his palm. "But I had to try."

John shivered. "Do you mean it?"

"I mean it John, I don't know how else to explain these feelings and when I look at you... I have the urge to quote Mr Darcy. Surely it can only mean one thing." He was smiling, his eyes had a warmth that John wanted to see looking down at him always.

"You're not actually like him, you know," John said, leaning into the palm on his cheek. "And I am _not_ Elizabeth Bennet."

"Hmm, I beg to differ. Your eyes are the most expressive I've ever known. And I am most certainly a cock," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"It works out in the end, in the book," John said. "When they both start to understand each other. And themselves."

"Yes," Sherlock murmured. "Do you think we're at that stage yet?" he asked, edging closer, thumb brushing gently over John's cheekbone.

"No, but this isn't the fucking nineteenth century," John said, and he risked reaching out to run his fingers down Sherlock's shirt front, grasping the fabric in his fist as he began to lose control.

"John," Sherlock breathed, and his other hand was in John's hair, fingers gripping at the back of his neck. John raised his face as Sherlock leaned in, and suddenly their lips were touching. It wasn't chaste, it was a far cry from anything in Sherlock's literature and John would never have known Sherlock had it in him. He couldn't breathe, lips sliding and nipping as they sank into it, John's arms went around Sherlock and pulled him close, warm and hard against him. Sherlock's grip tightened in John's hair and his other hand wound around his back, holding him steady.

The kiss went on and on, drawing out into something lighter, and John opened his eyes - smiled as he realised his friend was doing the same. He plunged back in for more, tongue pressing this time against soft lips opening at his touch, a moan escaping as John eased inside. Sherlock's hands clutched at him as their tongues met, his body tensed and John saw it all in his mind as just a mess of colour and disbelief.

Sherlock's chest was heaving against his, he couldn't seem to decide where he wanted his hands now, nearly lifting John as they embraced. John's stomach tightened at the thought and his own hands sought out the waistband of Sherlock's trousers, tugging at his shirt and slipping a hand under and up the smooth, warm skin of Sherlock's back.

He didn't want to stop, the sense of relief that they were doing this was nearly too much, but he didn't want it to end and for either of them to think about it too much.

Finally, he did pull back enough to get in a gulp of air, forehead pressed to Sherlock's chest as he released a deep sigh. "Oh, God, Sherlock..." he mumbled, wiping the back of his hand over his lips and looking up to see how his friend was doing.

Sherlock hadn't released John from their embrace, he was looking almost as stunned though, and a slow smile crept onto his lips as they stared at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I think this would just descend into pure gratuitous porn if I continued, so I best leave it here, safe in the knowledge that they live happily ever after. (Unless anyone would like an additional pwp chapter, in which case I'm happy to oblige!!)


End file.
